Page 7 of The Author

When I finally managed to open my eyes, I saw he was gone, and he had taken his hammer with him. I touched the side of my temple, and I could feel the bump from when he had knocked me out. When I looked down, I was still wearing my white fleece pyjamas. I brought my other hand up towards my lips again. This time, I could feel the thread over my lips.

Panicked, I looked around the unfamiliar bedroom for a mirror. It was bare except for the bed and the bedside table. I got out of bed and saw there were two doors. I knew he had gone out of the one furthest away from me. I tiptoed towards the door and tried to turn the round knob. It must be an old house. I’d only ever seen knobs like this in my grandma’s house.

It was locked. Of course, it was locked. A crazed dickhead had kidnapped me.

I tiptoed towards the other door and turned the knob, which opened. I sighed in relief when I saw it was a bathroom. After locking the door behind me, I ran up towards the mirror. There was a zig-zag shape of black thread running up and down my lips. My lips trembled at the sight before tears rolled down my cheeks.

He would kill me or cause me pain in ways I had never experienced before. His eyes had an unhinged look in them, and the rage—he was seething with it.

I didn’t understand what was happening.

It was mainly women who wrote dark romances. I wrote my book in 6 months.

How could I have copied him when I didn’t have a clue who this guy was?

I looked at the small bathroom window. Perhaps I could squeeze out of it. I opened the window and saw that I was at least two floors above the ground. The sink was directly above the window. I could tie bedsheets up. There was no way I would stay to be tortured or killed by a madman.

“Faye. Open the fucking door, now!”

I jumped at the sound of his voice. I looked around and realised I couldn’t use anything as a weapon. When I looked at the shower curtain around the bathtub, I considered pulling it off. I climbed onto the bathtub's edge, grabbed the shower curtain railing, and pulled it with all my strength.

Fuck.

It didn’t budge.

“Fucking. Open. The. Door. NOW,” he screamed.

My stomach lurched in panic and fear when I saw him turning the knob. The door shook as he tried to break it down.

“Oh, you are going to regret this,” he said in a calmer voice.

I considered opening the door, but the fear prevented me from moving. I tried to pull on the railing again and again. I was crying in frustration now because it still didn’t budge.

I was going to die. I wouldn’t see my thirty-second birthday.

Faye Sauders, 31, single, childless. Murdered by another author. Chopped up and found in a floating suitcase.

Fuck knows where he has brought me. He could bury me here, and no one would ever find me.

I was going to become another missing person statistic. Mum might not miss me for a few days. No one would be looking for me because no one knew I was missing.

If there was ever a time to pray, it was right now.

Chapter 6

Kyle

I stared at the door in irritation. If I hadn’t taken so long stitching her mouth up, I would have had time to dismantle the bathroom lock. I stared at the white door for a moment longer before going downstairs for my toolbox. I’d written so many books on torture. Cutting, peeling, slicing and stitching up. I’d had the biggest hard-on stitching her lips up.

After checking out of the hotel, I had stopped off at an all-night pharmacy en route to Devon.

I had no trespassing signs all around my property. It was a fair warning for the nasty surprise awaiting anyone who ignored my signs. It ensured none of the locals or tourists came near my property. Nobody knew about my coastal property. Therefore, it had made the perfect place to bring Faye.

I climbed up the stairs and wondered what punishment I should dole out towards my wayward prisoner. Seeing her fear when she thought I was about to hammer her hand into smithereens had been highly entertaining.

I chuckled as I pulled out the screwdriver. Writing so many sick books gave me plenty of ideas. The only thing that put me off was having to tend to any injuries. I didn’t want to risk any infections. That was the only thing that had stopped me from buying a piercing gun to pierce her lips shut.

I had enjoyed pushing the needle and thread in and out of her soft skin. My dick twitched at the thought of her mouth being wired shut. I only had time to learn how to stitch skin, but I wanted to do so much more to her.

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